They're going to have a good time.
The Kents are very kind people, Bruce knows, and they're the ones that offered him and Damian spend a few nights over anyway. With Clark, of course. And Tim and Kon. They should be prepared for having six heroes in their home all at once- and even if they're not, Bruce warned them. He said it might get cramped, that Damien will complain and Tim may stay up all hours of the night. He's not used to mid-western hospitality and if they make fools of themselves...well, he apologized early.
So, they're going to have a good time. Bruce decided it on the car ride over-
"No, Clark, you won't be flying us over. I don't care if it saves time and gas."
Damian is sitting in the back seat, an iPad open as he plays one of those online games Bruce knows little about. Tim is to his right, his eyes focused on the walls of corn stalks framing them on either side. Bruce isn't sure if Tim's ever been out in the country before, so he's armed incase it turns into a whole...thing.
He's also armed for anything Damian and Jon get up to. Anything at all.
"Are we there yet?" Damien calls from the back seat. "I am starting to feel motion sick."
"Look out the window," is Bruce's off-handed response. Looking down all car ride will do that.
There's a huff, then Bruce looks at the rear-view mirror to catch Damian putting the iPad away and resting against the window with his head on his fist. It near perfectly mirrors Tim, who appears even less happy to be on the road for almost two hours now.
Thankfully, the jet ride across states cut out most of the travel time. Not in the Batwing, obviously -even though there were complaints. From a private landing site, it was only a matter of getting across Manhattan, then an hour into Smallville. Traffic hadn't agreed with them, but Bruce is proud to say he did not swear or honk once. He doubts Clark would believe it.
Good thing he has witnesses.
The tension in Bruce's shoulders eases as the Kent home comes into view. He can see the large silo first, then the rest of the brick house as they round the corner. Dust kicks up as he parks next to an old pickup truck.
Bruce breathes, then turns to the kids.
"We're here."
Jon is already rushing out of the house and springing towards the car, a wide grin on his face. Just as quickly, Damian pulls on his backpack and climbs out of the car to greet his friend with a very forced nonchalance.
Clark trails a few yards after, looking nearly as excited as his youngest son.
Before they're forced into this mess- no, this very good stay, Bruce turns to Tim, who has yet to uncurl himself from the window.
"They'll try to be polite, even if we rip their home to shreds," Bruce notes. "We just have to learn their undertones and tells."
Framing it like a case helps them both, even if Bruce won't admit it. They're detectives by nature, creatures of research and intense observation. If he can kick Tim into gear, maybe they can both avoid insulting someone.
Hopefully.
"I memorized my notes in the jet. Martha and Jonathan will insist we call them by their first names. I've already rehearsed the conversation." Tim sits up, but he doesn't look away from the house. "I'll insist on calling them Mr and Mrs Kent, though. Unless they refute it three times. Then I'll pretend to slip their first names in until it's more natural."
They exchange a look of complete confidence just as Clark appears at Bruce's side. He won't open the car door on his own, the idiot he is. Always waiting on invisible social cues.
A single nod and the two of them leave the car in unison. Bruce barely acknowledges Clark as he walks to the house, but he listens to every word the man says.
"How was the trip over? Not too slow, I hope?" Clark says it in such a smug little tone that Bruce has to give him a look. It doesn't sway Clark's smile. "Jon's been practically bouncing off the walls all morning. I hope he doesn't end up dragging Damien around."
"It'll be good exercise." Bruce reasons.
They walk up the steps after Tim but Bruce stops them for a quick kiss, all to themselves.
Clark beams down at him brighter than the sun peeking over his head. "I'm really glad you came."
"I almost didn't." He doesn't say it in a negative way. He's left the cave -left Gotham- to come out here. It was a deliberate choice, a sacrifice of his time, and he'll try everything in him not to regret it.
With a hand on his back, Clark escorts Bruce in.
Damian and Jon are at the dining table hunched over an encyclopedia about animals -a good call on Jon's part- and Tim is having his practiced conversation with Ma and Pa Kent. Kon-El likely isn't here at the moment, so Bruce takes the chance to set their few belongings in the room provided.
Clark follows him up the stairs.
"For someone so paranoid, you sure pack light." His fiance as Bruce sets his clothes in a provided dresser and his toiletries in the nightstand. Usually, he wouldn't bother unloading his things if he's only staying for a few days, but he also knows the Kents. If he isn't filling up the space they've provided, they'll assume he isn't comfortable.
And he isn't, but there's little they can do to change that.
"I brought the suit." Bruce offers. "Just in case."
Clark laughs with his whole chest. "Can you imagine? Batman saving Smallville? That would be something."
Bruce hums in way of response.
Silence passes over them comfortably. They work together to set things as they should be, then Clark settles them thigh-to-thigh on the bed. It's their moment of quiet before they have to deal with the kids. They'll be evenly numbered teens to adults, but with the hand provided, they'll likely need it. Bruce can handle Tim and Damien alone. He can handle Dick, Tim, Damien, Duke, Cass, and the dogs with Alfred's very appreciated help.
But the pairing of Kon and Tim, Damian and Jon? That's asking for chaos.
"You didn't bring the Batcow," Clark notes with humor.
"Trust me, Damian tried."
"It's good you didn't. Our cows can be a little cliquish about new comers. I wouldn't want her to get hurt."
"So I've read." After Jon's first visit to the Batcave, Bruce and Damian did real research about the care of cows. Just like the other animals, Damian has been placed in charge of taking care of her, milking her, and making sure she stays fed. Bruce will pay for anything else.
And just like the kind soul he is, Damian has made that cow the happiest in Gotham.
Their break ends as Tim steps into the doorway. He doesn't look defeated, thankfully, but he's clearly tapping them in to handle Clark's parents.
"Kon's flying in now," Clark tells Tim as they walk past. Bruce can see how Tim visibly relaxes. It's nice to know Clark can read his kids as well.
"She asked what I wanted for dinner," Tim mutters to Bruce. "I defaulted to mac and cheese, but she wanted sides too."
They're getting crafty. Next thing they know, Martha will start offering to bake a pie.
"Refuel until Kon gets here. You did good." He offers his son a reaffirming squeeze on his shoulder, then Bruce and Clark are heading back down the stairs into the lion's den.
The Kents are all smiles and open arms as Bruce approaches. He lets Martha pull him into a hug, then he does the same for Jonathan. They're kind, so very kind. Damian and Jon both have apple slices set out for them as they talk about each animal and whether Damian can use its venom to coat his sword.
"Oh, Bruce!" Martha takes his arm. "It's so good to see you again. How's Gotham? Oh, no, don't tell me! Let's leave work at home."
It does funny things to Bruce's heart, being adored so openly. It's one of his favorite things about them.
"Do you need any help on the farm?" Bruce offers. He set up a security system last time he visited. With permission, of course. There was a fox stealing eggs.
"Oh, it's nothing the boys can't handle." Jonathan pats his son's shoulder. "Real handy having three Kryptonians around. Even if they burn a few holes in the roof."
Clark laughs like he's remembering an unpleasant moment.
Thankfully, he's saved the embarrassment by a panting teen bursting through the door, looking about frantically.
"Hey!" Kon-El coughs. "Where's-"
"Upstairs," Clark says and the kid is zipping through the house with nothing more than a blur of colors.
There is a moment where all four of them look on at the scene with amusement before Martha pulls off. She gives Bruce a mischievous smile, then turns to her son. "Clark, honey? Would you go check on the gate latch? It's been getting all gummed up again."
"The latch? I thought it cleaned it out a month ago." Clark looks out to the yard, his eyes intense.
"Oh, you know how it gets in the spring. All the rain gets in there and- well, could you just look?"
Clark looks at his mother, then to Bruce. His eyes narrow but he doesn't protest. "...Alright, I'll check it out."
As soon as he's left the house, Martha is pulling Bruce to the living room by his arm. He goes willingly despite his caution.
But his worries are silenced when Martha pulls out a small box filled with old photos. She got his message after all.
A few days back, Bruce had sent a letter asking if Martha had any old pictures of Clark's childhood. There was no reply, mostly because of the timing of everything, but Bruce is pleased to find she went looking just for him. It's a significant experience, seeing your partner's old photos. And given that Clark doesn't exactly have the ability to share that -not that Bruce would ever let Alfred show his pictures to anyone, let alone Clark- Bruce jumped at the opportunity to connect with his possible in-laws. His...parents. Maybe. Hopefully.
"I just found these in the attic last night," Martha says as she settles in beside Bruce. Jonathan falls back into the armchair across from them with a sigh. "They're all out of order but- Oh! Here's Clark on his first day of school!"
She passes the image and Bruce is delighted to see a young Clark Kent dressed up in a flannel and jeans.
"-And this is a few weeks after we found him. He was so big! Weighed twenty pounds and barely fit into my arms! I thought he was three years old!"
"Twenty pounds!" Bruce looks closely at the picture. A dark-haired baby nearly the side of Martha's torso. He hopes Lara had proper medical treatment to compensate.
Or, more likely, Kryptonian babies are naturally bigger.
Bruce cycles through a few more photos and listens to the stories attached. Pa Kent tells about Clark chewing through solid plates before he learned what was food and what wasn't. Martha shows pictures of Clark's prototype Superman costumes and Bruce has to hold back the laughter that tries to bubble up.
Bruce is just picking up one with Clark's first lost tooth when the man himself comes back inside.
"Well, I tried to spray it off with the hose, but it was working fine when I-"
He stops dead.
"Ma! What are you doing?!" Clark rushes over and holds his hair as he sees the many photos spread out over the coffee table. His eyes only widen when he finds Bruce holding one. "I can't believe this! These are sensitive!" He starts snatching them up but Martha holds them close to her chest.
"They're cute, Clark! You were so full of hope and big dreams!"
Bruce puts on his most innocent face. "You're good pictures, Clark. I'd hate for them to get ruined up in storage."
Clark scowls at him. "What a shame that would be." His voice drips with sarcasm.
"Oh, come now." Martha protests. "Everyone was a baby once. There's nothing embarrassing about a little- oops! Look at that cute butt!" She hands another over to Bruce and he makes a show of holding back his smile. He doesn't have to try very hard.
He doesn't hold tight when Clark takes it away. "Ma, at least don't show those ones!"
"Alright, alright! What about these?" Martha pulls up a new stack. To Bruce's surprise, they're of Jon. Hospital pictures and a few milestones as well.
He looks so much like Clark. The dark hair, the big eyes, and the fat cheeks. He's wrapped up all warm in a blue onesie and Bruce aches for a time he missed with his own child.
Talia never mentioned videos or photos to him. He doubts she took many, if any at all. It's not as if the League of Shadows is big on photo evidence.
With the topic changed to Jon, Clark seems to have no issue in cooing over these photos the way Martha did. "He used to have the best smiles before his teeth came in. All gums and spit. Still does, when you catch him sleeping." Clark throws a fond look over to the kitchen.
He wants a baby. Bruce wants a baby so, so badly. He wants to see his child's first words, to see them so new to the world. He wants to see the terrible toddler years and the messy fits and everything in between.
"I wish I had photos of Damian," is what he ends up saying. He states it as a simple fact, none of the unbearable longings in his voice, but Clark still scoots closer.
With the faint trails of some band Tim likes coming from upstairs and the occasional shout from the boys outside -when they migrated to the barn, Bruce isn't sure- the Kent house feels peaceful in a way the Wayne manor doesn't. It's full, if a little cramped, but lived in. Loved.
They're going to have a good time, Bruce decided with full confidence.
I was going to write more for this but I both ran out of time and also didn't want to drag it on for too long. So, have this one-shot.